Voldemort's Resurrection Countdown Begins

As Hermione lamented her bad luck in choosing a partner, she could never have imagined that on a small island in the middle of the North Sea, thousands of miles away, Voldemort was making the same lament.

Inside the fortress on this small island, Voldemort, now a grumpy old man, just wanted to curse.

He originally intended to take over the other serious criminals besides his group of Death Eaters after possessing Antonin Dolohov's body.

Some of them were no less skilled in magic or as ruthless as his Death Eaters.

Unexpectedly, when he revealed his identity, subdued the Dementors, and released his minions, his beloved Death Eaters gave him a surprise—they killed all the prisoners except for themselves.

In response to Voldemort's question, "Master, we've all been holding back for too long."

"With you here, we certainly don't lack followers!" the Mulciber and Son explained.

"Master, I'm just like you now!" Little Crouch laughed as he looked at his father's corpse.

"My master, you have finally come to take your poor Bella." Bellatrix Lestrange looked at Voldemort, who resembled Antonin Dolohov, with the eyes of someone looking at a lover. The corpse beside her also proved that she had released her desires.

Her husband, Rodolphus Lestrange, watched with an air of entitlement as his wife struck poses for Voldemort, while his brother Rabastan Lestrange, seemed equally unsurprised.

Similarly, several bodies lay around them.

"I just wanted to kill someone!" Travers, who murdered Marlene McKinnon MacKinnon and her family, said tearfully.

Voldemort felt like his blood vessels were about to explode!

Possessed by the sea serpent, he swallowed several wands, having gone through so much hardship to get here, all for the purpose of raising his arm and launching a counterattack against the Ministry of Magic.

But his talented and promising subordinates used the magic wands he sent them to do these awful things.

But he couldn't get angry; they were all his loyal apostles.

Bella was his lover, and she, her husband, her husband's brother, and even Little Crouch., after his death, went so far as to torment Frank and Alice Longbottom Longbottom Auror, all in an effort to find information about him.

As for the Mulciber and Son, they had all joined his cause, leaving only the two of them.

Travers was very powerful, and after killing someone, he didn't forget to remind the others to bring the body over—a wizard's corpse is the best material for crafting Dark Magic items.

"Nothing."

"I just think it's a pity."

"You may not know this, but Arthur Weasley became the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and he transferred all the minor offenders to another prison."

"The guys you killed were all close to our team in terms of values and strength," Voldemort had failed many times, explained at a rare length.

However, he wasn't worried at all that his demons and monsters would discover something was wrong with him.

Their already distorted minds became even more chaotic during their many years of imprisonment.

Not to mention his unusually patient explanation, even if he were to propose peace with Dumbledore right now, some of them, like Travers, would agree to kiss Dumbledore's toes if asked.

"Pure-blood traitor!"

"You scum who deserve to be torn to pieces!" The Mulciber and Son spat.

"Father, open your eyes and look! Hahahaha— the Weasley you looked down on has taken your place." The dutiful son Little Crouch., stepped on Barty Crouch.'s face.

"Can your father be resurrected so I can kill him again?" Travers crouched down, poked Barty Crouch's withered cheek with his wand, and stared at Barty Crouch's neck.

"Master, it's all my fault!" Bella knelt at the feet of the Dolohov version of Voldemort.

Even Voldemort couldn't help but feel secretly pleased. Compared to the unreliable and eccentric characters, Bella, who was willing to apologize and admit her mistakes, seemed particularly adorable to him.

If he weren't using someone else's body, and if Bella hadn't neglected her appearance for so many years, he would have wanted to have sex with her husband, Rodolphus, again.

"We need to do one thing now—use the island's terrain and the Dementors to build a fortification that no other wizard can break into."

"Quiet down, all of you— Little Crouch, put down your father's head. Travers, don't drag the body's clothes."

"You all need to learn patiently. You will need to activate the magic that the evil wizard Ekstasis has placed in this fortress, and I will then work with the Dementors to modify it."

"Bella, what's wrong?" Voldemort raised an eyebrow.

"Master, why don't we just attack the Ministry of Magic directly?" Bella raised her hand.

"Master! I want to cut off Arthur Weasley's head, no, their whole family! There are nine of them! How beautiful it would be to pile their heads together!"

"That would be much more interesting than the Marlene McKinnon family!" Travers smiled innocently and raised his hand like a child answering a teacher's question.

"Perhaps you don't know."

"Dumbledore created a younger version of me from my corpse and my remaining soul at the place where I failed, and brainwashed him into believing in ideas such as wizards protecting Muggle."

"That younger version of me is still the Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor at Hogwarts. Fortunately, though, he's still no match for me."

"Furthermore, Grindelwald, that loser, was also brought out of Nurmengard by Dumbledore. Igor Karkaroff is now under his command, with Durmstrang as his base."

"But you don't need to worry!"

Do you know why all of this is for?

"They're scared!"

"They are afraid that I will be fully resurrected!"

"Afraid that I'll regain my strength as the world's number one!"

"For me, Dumbledore would even abandon his principles—his so-called love!" Voldemort said, letting out a piercing laugh.

"Therefore, in order to buy time for my resurrection, we must first establish an impregnable base." Voldemort stroked his beard ( on Dolohov's body).

"Master, you are so charming!" Bella felt herself getting wet. She had never thought that old man Dolohov was so charming before. His wrinkles, his grime-covered feet, and his beard, which was tangled with oil and unknown stains, were all exceptionally attractive.

"Master, you may not be a match for me in your youth, but—" Travers regained his senses after facing Dumbledore, Grindelwald, and a younger version of Voldemort as his opponents.

"I don't need you. You just need to stall for time. Azkaban, these corpses, and the Dementors will be the best materials for my resurrection." Voldemort waved his hand.

"How long will that take?" Little Crouch put his father's head down.

"One year, just one year," Voldemort said in a relaxed tone.